


today (of all days)

by MillieMay



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillieMay/pseuds/MillieMay
Summary: 5 times Gil helped Jessica + 1 time he was too late
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [youngghosts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngghosts/gifts), [gilica gc](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gilica+gc).



> Hello! I am back! Dropped off writing for a bit due to hiatus and my utter inability to write things in order but I have returned with a brand new 5+1 idea. This is only pt 1 as I've decided to split the parts into separate chapters. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

Jessica wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing here, not really. With a bottle of bourbon in one hand and two suite tickets to the Mets game in the other she was certain it was a thank you. For helping her with the interrogations, for being there for Malcolm the past few months. Everything felt like a tornado right now, ripping her life apart but Gil-

Gil felt like something to hold onto.

However, standing here, in front of the door feels a lot more like moving on than she expected. Having someone to hold onto meant having something to lose. She’d already lost everything. She couldn’t do it again. Not this time.

She’s almost completely convinced herself to leave the gift on his doorstep and call once she was out of earshot when the door swings open. Gil doesn’t even look shocked to see her there, only raising an eyebrow at her dumbfounded look.

“How long were you planning on standing outside my door?” The smirk on his face tells her he’s joking.

“How-”

“I heard your heels. Nobody that lives on this floor would risk their neck walking in those.” He steps aside pulling the door open a little wider for her. “Come on in.” She does, taking a moment to look around. She’d seen his place for only passing moments. Mostly when she needed someone to watch Malcolm and Ainsley when she had a court hearing. The process of Martin’s trial was exhausting enough without Malcolm having a panic attack at the thought of being left alone with even just Luisa, who he’d known his whole life.

Though, he’d thought he’d known Martin his entire life too.

“Would you like a drink?” Gil’s voice pulls her out of the spiral she’d slipped into. He looks concerned, not many people do now-a-days.

“No, actually. I brought these for you.” She lifts the gifts to hand over to him. “It’s a thank you. For everything you’ve done for the past few months. Without you I-” She almost laughs. Truthfully, without him she would be nowhere. Likely lost in some pit of alcohol and pills, praying that neither of her kids are the ones that find their mother like that. After her family disgraced her with tuttering remarks that  _ they always knew Martin Whitly was trouble,  _ she felt abandoned. Cast aside with two children, one traumatized beyond any reason for a 12 year old and the other so painfully oblivious that even when she tried to go on as normal it unintentionally ripped Jessica’s heart out. Suddenly a single mother with no family.

“You didn’t need to do this.” Gil smiles, taking the tickets and bottle from her hands.

“I wanted to.”

“Well, I can’t wait to teach Malcolm the correct team to be rooting for.” Her jaw drops again. That wasn’t who the other ticket was meant for. He was supposed to bring a friend, or family, or a girlfriend. Not Malcolm. “What? You didn’t think I’d bring Shannon, did you?”

She tilts her head disapprovingly. “You don’t.”

“Jess.” He sighs placing both down and taking her by the shoulders. It’d become a common practice. A stance he adopted when he could see everything becoming too much all at once. Especially on the days of the trial where she was forced to testify against the man she loved. Or, once loved. “Malcolm is a good kid. I like having him around. Right now, he needs to feel normal and If I can give him a day where I teach him everything I know about baseball? If it distracts him from everything else for just one day, that makes me happy.”

“You’re a good man.” She smiles, almost lamenting how she wishes for a moment that Gil was Malcolm’s father. He was the antithesis of her, grounded and calm. A hero for both the city but for her son too.

“Should I get two glasses?” She looks to the door, her lips searching for an excuse to leave that truthfully doesn’t exist. Her schedule completely cleared of everything shortly after Martin’s arrest other than press hounding her every other day. Publishists demands for the story of Mrs. Whitly flooded her voicemail. Both Malcolm and Ainsley at school for another 5 hours meant she would be all alone in a home that whispered with the voices of dead women she never even met before.

“Sure.” She decides. He moves to the cabinet retrieving two glasses that look more expensive than anything she’d really expect him to own.

“Family heirloom.” He explains, having caught her expression of surprise. “My mother gave them to me as a good luck gift after I graduated from the academy.”

“Well I could use all the luck I could get.” She chuckles dryly.

“That and I don’t think glasses I got on sale at Macy’s are quite fitting for what you brought.” That does actually get a genuine laugh from her. It feels good to laugh. Truthfully she doesn’t remember the last time she had a real one, not laced with a fake polite tone or sarcasm. He pours them both a glass and they move into the living room.

His decor is much simpler than her home. The walls hold a lot more frames, family and friends smile back at her and she stops in her tracks when she notices one of Malcolm. He’s smiling at the camera with a wide toothed grin that brings tears to her eyes. She remembers Gil had asked her if it was ok that he had that photo in his apartment. A small moment from a diner she heard Malcolm talk about a lot, Mel’s if she remembers or something along those lines. Seeing the photo here, amongst other family of Gil’s, hit something different. A chord struck that she wasn’t the only one looking out for him now.

“Jess,” Gil calls to her, his voice a little panicked. She looks over and she wonders just how long he’d been trying to get her attention.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“How are you doing?” The question catches her off guard. So many people have asked her that in the past month alone. A call from her mother, from Birdie, her attorney, Alphonso, the therapist that Luisa recommended to her.

“I’m fine.” She tries.

“Jessica.” The tone is a  _ don’t bullshit me  _ one. He had a knack for knowing when she was lying.

“I can’t think about it. Not right now. It’s all-” Her voice catches in her throat and she chases the lump away with a drink. “Right now everything is too close. If I stop, it will all hit at once. I can’t let myself be swept up by Martin. Not when Malcolm and Ainsley need me.”

“But who’s there for you?” She stops again, staring off for a moment. Truly, the only person that she thought was ever there for her is getting a cushy space in a psychiatric hospital when he should be rotting in prison. When she can’t find an answer Gil speaks up again, “Well, I’ll tell you what. If you ever need anything my door is open.”

“I can’t do that to you. Not when you do so much for this family already.”

“Well, how about this. You bring the bourbon and we can talk about anything you need to talk about over a good drink that probably costs more than my paycheck.” She laughs, again it feels like it loosens some of the tension in her chest. A part of her screams at her, knowing that she’s getting to close again but yet his eyes are so gentle. With a smile that feels so soft that it should only be shared with the purest of heart. She doesn’t deserve to be smiled like that, and yet.

“I’d like that.”


	2. Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here y'all go!!! Another update has officially dropped and I hope y'all enjoy this. Ngl I wasn't entirely sure where this one was going BUT I do like where it ended up.

The second time she comes Gil is half asleep on the couch, case files spread all around his coffee table and a half filled mug dangling precariously on the ledge. They’d been around each other a lot more in the months following, but she never did come with a bottle in hand and her burdens to unload. The knock startles him awake and he shuffles all the papers back into their respective folders, pulling on a shirt to go answer.

Jessica stands, her face twisted in pain he hadn’t seen since the first night of Martin’s arrest. When her eyes meet his she just crumples, like a house of cards in the slightest breeze. Tears slide down her cheeks and her breath comes out in short whines. She’s trying desperately to explain but she can’t get out anything past her frantic sobs.

Her cries send him into immediate action, one hand securing the bottle she has in one hand while the other loops around her shoulders ushering her inside. He kicks the door closed behind him not really caring about the noise or the attention it might draw when Jessica is falling apart in his arms.

He places the bottle down next to the bowl that contains his keys and slowly reaches out his hands to her. He waits until she sees them as not to startle her with touch, when she doesn’t jump away he places them gently on her shoulders. “Jess, easy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I couldn’t.” She wheezes. “I can’t.”

She can’t breathe, he surmises from her hands scratching at her own chest. His eyes widen momentarily, he’s seen panic attacks before with Malcolm but seeing them come from Jessica is new. He wonders how long she’s kept them a secret from others. “Jess, focus.” Her eyes snap to him again. “Breathe with me.” He breathes slow, and she tries to follow the rhythm but-

“I can’t.” She sobs.

“Yes, you can. Keep trying with me.” She forces herself to play along, breathing in short hiccuped air before exhaling slowly. Eventually with the movement she settles, though her tears do not stop. “What’s wrong?”

“Martin,” She sucks in a deep breath again trying to control her panic. “Martin called. And I answered.”

“How the hell does he even have a phone?” She tosses her head back, the motion screaming that she was wondering the same exact thing. “What did he want?”

“He wished me a happy anniversary.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“It’s your wedding anniversary?” She nods with a note of shame.

“I saw the call and for a minute. I just forgot. I forgot everything.” Her head falls, her hand coming in front of her eyes to try to hide her face. “How can you forget 23 dead women?” She devolves into sobs again and he simply pulls her into a hug letting her cry it out. He doesn’t have any words to help her. How can you comfort a woman who’s so suddenly a single mother, not because of her husband’s death but because he’s a prolific serial killer? “I just froze.” She cries into his shoulder. “His voice. It was.”

He shushes her as she cries, one hand resting between her shoulder blades and the other brushing through her hair. Her fingers cling to the front of his shirt, desperate for anything to cling to.

“God, Ainsley found me just standing there. He’d hung up but who knows how long I was just there.”

“She’s too young to know. She’ll forget it by tomorrow.”

“I know.” She sighs. “If it were Malcolm.”

“It wasn’t.” He pulls her back forcing her eyes to meet his. “You can’t drown yourself in ifs, Jess.” She sighs, knowing that he’s right. “Let me get the glasses and we can talk more ok?” She nods, moving to the couch. He watches her closely, seeing how her shoulders are folded inwards, completely uncharacteristic of the woman who takes so much pride in how she presents herself to the world. He doesn’t know if he’s honored or saddened that she doesn’t feel the need to wear that mask here.

He comes back with the same glasses from the first night, recognition flashes in her eyes and her lip twitches upwards at the memory. He pours them both a drink and she knocks back her first with ease. He schools the frown that threatens to show, instead flipping to a more comfortable topic.

“How are Malcolm and Ainsley?”

“Blissfully unaware. They’re off getting spoiled by their aunt who will dig way too much, but honestly what other option do I have?”

“I could take them for the night.” 

“No, I need-” She catches herself before she lets the words slip. The way she swallows, her eyes holding all the vulnerability of a bird with a broken wing. He knows how the sentence was going to end.  _ I need you. _

“Well, the offer stands any time you need. I love having them over. Though Ainsley keeps asking if I’m going to get a cat because I told her about my mother’s cat having kittens.”

“So I can blame you for that.”

“Just a bit.” A hint of a smile plays at her lips again and they fall into the comfortable silence of drinking. After her third, he can see that she’s starting to slump. All composure has been forgotten as the buzz takes over. “Why don’t you stay here tonight?”

A playful grin pulls at her mouth as she flips her hair, sending a rush of heat to his cheeks. “I’ve hardly been divorced for 2 months and you’re already making a move?” He stammers for a moment. He can’t say in his more shameful moments he hadn’t thought of it. She’s a beautiful woman, and strong as all hell too. But he wouldn’t. He can’t. She tips back her head letting out a loud laugh that doesn’t do any good for the knots forming around his heart. “Oh my god, your face!” She squeals.

“Very funny.” He chuckles. “But I really don’t think you should be alone tonight.” His statement cuts her laugh short. He half expects her to turn somber once again but instead the air feels electric. He stands before either of them can do anything that they’d regret in the morning. “I’ll get you some clothes, you can take my bed tonight.”

“I can’t put you out of your own bed.”

“I insist. Besides, my couches are a lot more comfortable than yours.” She feigns offense but it’s true. He bought his couch solely for the occasions when he falls asleep on them while pouring over case files while hers are solely for appearances. A traitorous voice asks what else she has just for appearances.

“Gil?” He turns, as she catches his wrist. For a moment he wishes that they’d met in a different time. Some time before her world had gone to hell. A time where he could try. She stops his train of thought when she presses a kiss to the corner of his lips. A sad look passes over her eyes, different from her sadness over her destroyed family and broken life. He wonders for a moment if she wishes the same as him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He says, his voice soft. The tone reserved only for her or her children.

And she smiles.


End file.
